


Take a Taste

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Secretly A Chef!Cass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: Cass attempts a romantic dinner for Jesse and leaves a bit of destruction in his wake... 
Written for the prompt: "Jessidy...Cassidy is secretly an excellent chef."





	

“Has Cass seemed a little off to you lately?”

 

“Would we even know if he was?”

 

As one Jesse and Tulip’s heads swung towards the bar. Cass was half over the counter now, pointing emphatically to something behind it while the bartender—poor Ryan—looked like he was two seconds away from whipping Cass with his towel, like some sort of errant, dirty fly. Except Rayn wasn’t known for his violence. Unless you counted screwdrivers and bloody marys. He threw up his hands as Cass finally snatched whatever it was he’d been after.

 

Tulip turned back to Jesse. “No weirder than usual,” she announced.

 

Jesse hummed though. He watched as Cass waved the prize smugly: some dusty bottle of wine. Ryan was scowling and Cass was saying something no doubt insulting... and Jesse reached absently for the snack bowl before discovering pine nuts. He scowled.

 

“Cass!”

 

He trotted over obediently, wine still clutched protectively against his chest. Cass stopped at the raised eyebrows and gestured backwards, a little twitchy.

 

“Either of you got money for this?” he asked, though Jesse still wasn’t sure what exactly ‘this’ was or how much it might cost. Answer was the same either way, of course.

 

“Nope,” he said.

 

Tulip grinned. “When have I ever paid Ryan a cent, Cass?”

 

“That’s true!” Ryan yelled and all three ignored him.

 

Cass seemed to consider it, finally grinning before giving an oddly formal nod of his head. He tugged at the string he used as a belt until it got loose enough to slip the bottle through it, balanced on his hip. Then he peered onto their table, sniffing at the nuts.

 

“Gonna eat those, Padre?”

 

Jesse slid the bowl forward. Cass snatched it up and started out the door. Ryan scowled as Cass did a dramatic twirl, turning back to throw finger guns at Jesse with his one free hand.

 

“See you at home~” and he was gone.

 

Tulip snorted. “Definitely normal.”

  

“Yeah. Jesus.”

 

Jesse left the bar half an hour later, sort of expecting Cass to still be waiting outside, ready to do only hell knew what with himself and that bottle of wine. The street was largely deserted though, everyone trying to beat the heat by staying inside. Only Luke Carson was out and Jesse was unsurprised when he raised his hand in greeting.

 

A little surprised when he beckoned Jesse over— _insistently_.

 

“There you are!” Luke said. His shirt was sweat stained in several places and he was busy wiping more out of his eyes. “About time, Preacher. You can start with those over there. I’d like to finish patching this damn thing before we all die of heat stroke.”

 

Jesse blinked. Luke was pointing to a small pile of fence posts and though he’d always been a friendly guy, Jesse had never known him to make assumptions like that. There was a silence between them that could have gotten real awkward real fast, but at the last second Luke took note of Jesse’s befuddled expression, snapping his fingers.

 

“Little asshole didn’t tell you, huh?”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

Jesse already had a good guess as to who the ‘little asshole’ might be though. Luke pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to find some relief.

 

“That bud of yours,” he said. “Chris? Nah, something foreign, ain’t it? Casey? Forget it. The skinny bastard comes pounding on my door, right—like he can’t see I’m working out in this hellhole—and starts trying to beg flour off of me. Buy your own damn flour I told him, but he starts spouting gibberish about how the store doesn’t have the right kind (there are _kinds_ now, Preacher?) and how Martha’s down at the corner store is infested with something awful. That at least don’t surprise me. But I tell him Lisa’s making muffins for the school bake sale and if I’m going out of town for more flour then he’d better help me patch this fence first, yeah? Guy grins like a loon and says sure, but that you’d help me out instead. Asshole then runs off with the last of it.” Luke finished the tale with a massive explosion of breath. “But he didn’t tell you any of that, did he?”

 

“...no,” Jesse sighed. “Did he say what it was _for_?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Right. Listen, Luke—”

 

“Too bad for you,” Luke interrupted, no unkindly. “Having rude friends like that.” He tossed Jesse a hammer.

 

Well, he wasn’t a complete asshole (unlike some), so Jesse peeled off his own shirt and set to work trying to level the ground for the stakes, then hammering the panels together. All the while Luke bitched about the heat or bitched about the horse that had knocked into his fence in the first place, and as he did one of these two things Jesse continued with his work... and thought about what the ever loving _fuck_ Cass thought he was up to.

 

He was toying with the idea of some sort of horrifying prank when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

 

Jesse turned, trying to see against the glare of the sun. Beside him Luke put down his tools and raised a hand. “Hey there, Janey,” he said. “Need something?”

 

“ _Him_ ,” Janey snapped. She shook a clump of something green and muddy in Jesse’s face, causing him to rear back. Droplets splatter all over—the perfect combination of cool and disgusting on his skin.

 

“Preacher,” Janey growled. She was exactly 110 pounds of terror. “That ‘friend’ of yours—” she said friend like it was a curse and Jesse bristled, “—stole my basil! Swiped it right out of my garden. You’d best pay for this and new seeds because this little clump is all that’s left—and he kicked it!” Again with the shaking of the mutilated planted.

 

“Mm hmm,” Luke said. He tipped his hat to Janey like they were comrades in arms.

 

Calming her down was a whole lot harder than fixing a fence, yet Jesse came out of both trials with his head pounding something fierce. He trudged his way back to the church with his shirt slung over one arm and a punch with Cass’ name on it, held tight by his right fist. At this point he was convinced that Cass was either deliberately screwing with him... or high beyond believe.

 

Option Two would explain the food fixation.

 

Jesse stopped at the steps leading into the church, frozen. There was now an empty pasta box hanging from one of the rafters. Cass had carved out a door and had stuffed it full of birdseed. A number of sparrows were helping themselves.

 

“Definitely high,” Jesse muttered.

 

Except that when he actually went inside, Jesse was immediately hit by the most _amazing_ smell. He stopped again, floored, tilting his head back and breathing in as deep as he could. The heat of the day was momentarily forgotten, as was the twinge in his back from working outside. Jesse hurried forward.

 

The smell was one thing, but little in this world had prepared him for what he found in the kitchen.

 

“Cass?” Jesse said, voice strangled. Not high then. Cass gave a jaunty wave from over by the stove, his other hand sprinkling something into a simmering pan. Jesse could just make out a hint of green over Cass’ shoulder, a thick sauce—the source of that fucking heaven-sent smell—and on the opposite burner was a huge pot of pasta, nearly over boiling. Cass dropped the rest of his herbs in before expertly snatching up the lid, turning the heat down and bustling over to the sink, never missing a beat. Jesse watched, mouth agape, as Cass poured off the water without loosing a single noodle. He was back to stirring a second later, wagging a finger in Jesse’s general direction.

 

“Can’t believe you don’t have a fuckin’ colander in this place.” Cass said it the same way he’d once said, ‘We’re out of _beer_?’ He turned to throw Jesse a grin with spread arms. “Surprise! Welcome home, hope you had a good day—all that bloody, sentimental shit.” Cass knocked the spoon about and took a taste, humming appreciatively. “Nothin’ special about this I’m afraid—you lot have got shit all to work with in this town—but I figured t’was about time we ate somethin’ not outta a takeaway bag, eh? C’mon now,” Cass gave Jesse his full attention, now looking mildly concerned. “Can’t be too surprising havin’ your boyfriend cook you dinner now, can it? Even in the beautiful, backwards state?”

 

Jesse felt a little like he was floating, all the pieces from the day finally clicking together. He leaned against the counter and allowed his whole body to soften.

 

“I just didn’t realize you _cooked_ ,” he said.

 

“‘Course I fuckin’ cook. You don’t live as many decades as I have without it.”

 

“Cass. You once said Pop-Tarts were the king of breakfast foods.”

 

“‘An I stand by that. This too. I am a man of both worlds, Jesse Custer.”

 

It startled a laugh out of him and Cass took advantage, slinking forward. It hadn’t passed his notice that Jesse was sans shirt... or Jesse’s that Cass wasn’t wearing anything under that apron.

 

“Gonna take a taste already?” Cass taunted, sliding hands down Jesse’s ass. He grinned again, sudden and blinding. “Dinner’s gettin’ cold,” he echoed and leaned in for a kiss.

 

Tempting as it was (and oh, it _was_ ), Jesse stopped him with one finger against Cass’ lips. He tapped it there twice.

 

“Flour for the sauce,” he said slowly, “pasta, Janey’s basil, a good bottle of wine... what did you do with the pine nuts, Cass?”

 

“Put ‘em in the sauce too, a ‘course.”

 

Jesse smiled. “Yeah... Tulip could have told you.”

 

“Wha’?”

 

“I’m _very allergic_.”

 

Cass jerked back, cursing up a storm as he backpedaled away from him. Jesse wanted to clarify that it was probably fine so long as they didn’t kiss after that taste... but watching Cass nearly trip on his apron strings was too good a visual to pass up.

 

“Sorry,” he chuckled. There was a bit of guilt though. Just a twinge.

 

“Nah.” Cass looked to his meal and shrugged. “Well... we’re bound to fuck it all up eventually, aren’t we. It’s the thought an’ all that counts, yeah? Think Tulip’ll eat it?”

 

“Tulip? Pass up free food?”

 

“Point. I’m just,” he made a vague motion towards the stairs. “Gonna go brush my teeth. Probably a couple thousand times holy fuck.”

 

Jesse felt a rush of warmth running through him, still unfamiliar... but not at all unwelcome.

 

“And I’ll order Chinese?”

 

Cass blew him an air kiss and a wink.

 

“Read my mind. You ‘an me, padre. Fuckin’ linked.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, Ryan first appeared in Dressing Fine. He's one of those random, minor characters that's sticking with me for some reason...his life basically consists of fixing things that Jesse breaks in his bar, finding Cass passed out in weird spots in his bar, wondering when and if Tulip will ever pay him (she won't), and dreaming about the day he'll finally leave Annville (even though he doesn't REALLY want to. Shhh, don't tell.) It's a hard life when you're the Minor Character living amongst the Unholy Trio's shenanigans. Poor Ryan.


End file.
